


Blood, religion and surviving the apocalypse

by EWM



Category: Cursed (TV 2020), Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Other, POV Original Female Character, POV Troy, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 08:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EWM/pseuds/EWM
Summary: So this is my answer/ re-write on the fate of Troy Otto. I thought he was the most interesting character in the series (other than Nick) and I thought his ending was a bit cheap. So here's my solution!  Yes watching Cursed influenced me writing this, it's certainly not a direct cross over, but it was absolutely an inspiration in terms of the enemies :) Happy reading and comments and thoughts very welcome.
Relationships: Jake Otto & Troy Otto, Nick Clark & Troy Otto, Troy Otto/Original Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is my answer/ re-write on the fate of Troy Otto. I thought he was the most interesting character in the series (other than Nick) and I thought his ending was a bit cheap. So here's my solution! Yes watching Cursed influenced me writing this, it's certainly not a direct cross over, but it was absolutely an inspiration in terms of the enemies :) Happy reading and comments and thoughts very welcome.

Troy Otto was a stubborn sort of man, although he didn’t really know it at the time. He should have died when Madison Clark cracked him over the head with a hammer, twice.But he didn’t, he just lay there as Madison and her son ran away from the destruction. He should have died of when the dam broke and the whole region flooded. But he didn’t die then either, he clung on, some tiny spark of life still inside of him kept his body going. The newly flooded river took his body down away from the chaos. In one way he was lucky. No one grabbed his body, the undead didn’t eat him, no one robbed him and he didn’t crack his head again as the water carried him. He floated away in relative safety until he eventually washed up on shore on a flooded section of road. This was when his luck ran out.

The Red Paladin gang had stopped for the night, parking their bikes and trucks and making camp. The supplies had been split up, two guards were on watch, another two kept their guns trained on the frightened captives they had in their trucks, while the rest of them went exploring beyond the camp, venturing towards the water to see if the river washed up anything new they could take. They’d been lucky the last few days; supplies, bodies and people of course had come across their path. They raided every town, every hut and structure they could find, taking food and weapons and people. Those who fought against them they shot, a double shot to the head to make sure they didn’t rise again. Those who were strong, but not stupid, they took, tied them up and tossed them in the back of their trucks. New slaves were always useful, some the gang kept, some they could sell. Either way it was a win. These men, six of them in total walked along the riverbank, poking at the flotsam and jetsam, weapons at the ready just in case they saw any undead. It was the easy confidence of men in power, men who were on top and could step on anyone who was below them. 

That’s was when they spotted the body floating on the edge of the riverbed. It was a young man, over 6 feet in height, long limbs and dark hair. There was blood coming out of the side of his head. The self-appointed leader – Lawrence or Ren as the other knew him, moved forward first and poked the body cautiously, ready to fire if he was infected and leapt into life (so to speak). But nothing like that happened. The young man simply turned over and groaned. Slowly he lifted himself up out of the water and the mud and crawled painfully onto dry land, he fell on his stomach almost instantly, eating dust and stand. He started coughing from inhaling gunk and garbage. Then he turned around and lent back, he groaned as his head touched the ground. He moved his fingers back and forth around his hair and felt the side of his head, he grimaced when he felt the stickiness of blood and flesh. It was only then that he became aware of the men standing over to him pointing pistols and rifles at his head. 

_“Who are you?”_ Ren asked, pushing the rifle into the young man’s cheek. 

_“Who do you belong too?”_ Another responded, this one has a tattoo of a cross on his cheek.

The man looked at them with bright blue eyes, he held his hand up to his aching head in a vague attempt to cover the bleeding from a gaping wound on the side of his head. He tried to recall something, anything to his mind, but nothing came, it was just darkness and a worsening headache.

 _“Answer me!”_ The man with the cross tattoo said pushing him his rifle into the young man’s chest.

 _“I II don’t know!”_ Troy yelled back. He put both hands on his head and shut his eyes for a moment in a bid to make the pain go away. He turned his head from side to side trying to push the agony out of his head. The men retreated away from him, Troy didn’t move, he continued to rub his temples trying to stop the bleeding and the pain. Ren gestured at the man with the tattoo and there was some furious discussing back and forth for a few minutes. Finally Ren came back to Troy still on his knees.

 _“Hey you, you belong to us_ .” He said pointing the gun at Troy’s face.

 _“What?? I’m with you?”_ Troy responded disbelieving, still rubbing his head.

 _“Yeah you are! My friend here Luca didn’t recognise you with the all blood running down your face. So on your feet!”_ Ren snapped again, jabbing Troy in the ribs with the rifle. Now Troy at this point was headachy, disoriented and actually still had blood coming out of his head. But he was not stupid, he got up as fast as he could moving his hands above his head as Ren and the man with the cross and the other soldiers pushed him towards their camp. He watched and stayed quiet, the men around him took to pushing him with their rifles, prodding him in the back, trying to get a reaction out of him. He flinched at every jab as felt what were probably newly formed bruises on his back. But he didn’t make a sound and stayed in control as best he could. They eventually made it back the camp. The guards who stood at the edge watched amused as Troy was pushed towards them, hands still in the air.

 _“Hey lads, this is…Nemo”_ Ren said, this produced a snigger in the guards. Some joke Troy didn’t get.

 _“He’s one of our slaves, but he got himself a little lost. But now we’ve found him again and we’re taking him back to Caden and back home with us, aren’t we nice?”_ This produced more laughter in the group. Troy took in his new surroundings, there were perhaps a dozen tents erected and a large fire in the middle. He could see multiple trucks and motorbikes parked on the edge, glinting in the fire light. There was mess and garbage everywhere. Troy could see people tied up in the backs of the trucks, all avoiding his eyes as they watched what the gang of men would do next.

 _“You pick up the mess! You bury it over there.”_ Luca barked spitting at Troy

 _“What? Pick it up yourself.”_ Troy even with his hands raised above his head, snapped out a response without even really thinking.

 _"Excuse me? What the fuck did you say?”_ Lucien said , he said, he used the butt of his rifle and slammed it into Troy’s head bringing him to his knees once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy finally finds a friend (kind of) and gets horribly whumped for his pains.

Troy woke up again in a moving truck, his hands were tied up in front of him, he was surrounded by three other people. All in similar states, there was a young woman with black hair who had an impressive purple bruise over her cheek. The other two were old men, grey and scraggly looking. He didn’t say anything to any of them, speaking hadn’t served him well up to this point. He managed to get himself up to look around. The miserable landscape raced past them, dried up land, mixed with quagmires cause by the flooding went past. Old buildings from before, now wrecked or taken over went past outposts, frightened people even the odd infected all flashed past them. They stopped for the night on the outskirts of some long-forgotten town, setting up a small camp. Only three tents this time Troy noted, he was dragged out once again. He alone was set up to do a strange series of menial tasks, Ren in particular seemed to enjoy making fun of him, he would make Troy fetch him some random item or other from the piles of supplies in the back of the trucks and bring it to him sitting by the fire, if Troy didn’t do it faster enough which he often didn’t because his hands remained tied in front of him, Luca or other guards would kick him in the legs bringing him to his knees again and again. Some part Troy’s damaged head burned at the humiliation of it all, he knew somehow he was above this abuse, but he was also sensible. He had no desire to be cracked in the head again and he didn’t like his odds against him and all those guns. 

Eventually Ren seemed to get bored of using him as a servant and sent him back to the trucks where the other captives were shivering as they were not deemed important to be near the fire. Troy finally took a pause for breath to rest his legs, he sat down quietly, leaning his back against one of the wheels. He experimented with the cuffs holding his wrists together, pulling them back and forth to see how breakable they were, this did not help anything. The cuts that were already forming on Troy’s wrists from them were made worse and he hissed as pain shot through his wrists and hands. He thought about what do, part of his head was still aching, but on the plus side, it had finally stopped bleeding. Could he escape these tormenters? Whoever they were? He didn’t believe for one second, he belonged with them. He must have his own gang? Family? His own people somewhere, he just had too. Troy wasn’t really sure why he thought this, it was just a gut feeling somewhere in him, maybe he had a brother or a father looking for him out there. He had to leave and find out. Yet something about these men was not exactly familiar…but recognisable. He found himself looking at the various weapons they were carrying and remembering them; Glock 19, standard 15 rounds at maximum 33 rounds, Mossberg 500, a powerful 12 gauge shot gun, it would split your enemy to pieces. But you had to be close otherwise it was wasted bullets. What was odd to him was there was a strange mishmash of up-to-date weaponry and antiques, for every shotgun he saw, he would could see an ancient M19 rifle. Troy had no real notion of why he knew all this, but it was there in his head. Maybe he had been a soldier…before….before all this. His thoughts were interrupted by one of the old men reaching out and poking him on the shoulder.

 _“Psssst, pssst! Nemo.”_ He whispered _“Get back in the truck, Luca’s coming!!”_

Troy was about to object when he spotted Luca in the distance, the man with the cross tattoo, he carried a rifle across his back and a pistol on one side and a more worryingly a whip on the other. He was followed by another man, a thin, straggling fellow with thin brown hair. They were talking quietly as they walked. Troy made to heave himself into the back of the truck, one of the old men helped. As he hunkered down next to him, Troy nodded his thanks. Quietly all the captives waited, shutting their eyes, praying that they would not be noticed. They were wrong, Lucia gestured to the old man who had helped Troy, his partner grabbed the man making to pull him out the truck. Troy who happened to be lying down next to him reacted without hesitation, he reached up for the straggly man making for his throat. He used his cuffs hands to throttle him, squeezing the life out of him.

He murmured in the gasping man’s ear “ _You fancy picking on someone try me.”_

Troy would have killed him if hadn’t been for Luca. Luca crept up behind him and slammed his rifle into Troy’s head, when this didn’t work, he slammed it repeatedly into Troy’s back. Troy felt his ribs break and eventually was forced to let go. By this time the straggly man had gone a comic shade of purple and was gasping, gesturing furiously at Troy who had collapsed back inside the truck with a smirk on his face. Luca dragged the straggling man away while Troy recovered for a few minutes and basked his victory, however small it was.

The old man eyed him _“Young man, I believe you might be truly insane. But thank you.”_

His accent was odd, out of place, Troy wondered where he was from. He wasn’t sure why he reacted the way he had, something in his mind told him, older men, your elders had to be respected. They commanded respect no matter what, another fragment of memory floating his brain. After chaos, the captives settled into an exhausted sleep, even Troy with his painful ribs collapsed inside the truck. The captives were woken at sunrise by Ren and the straggly man as Troy had dubbed him in his mind. All the captives we pulled from the truck, a dozen in total and were made to kneel. Ren walked back and forth in front of them, the rest of the soldiers stood in line guns at trained on the captives. The guards had been busy, there were a set of poles that had been pushed into the ground with ropes attached to them. Ren began

_“You have all been brought for me today to learn something. You have become part of the Red Paladins and the work we do, we are soldiers, we are warriors in a lawless world. We took you in to protect you, so you could become one with us. We do not require much from you. We will protect you, feed you, give you purpose. All we require from you…is obedience.”_

Ren paused and stared at Troy who kept his eyes resolutely on the floor waited for the blow he knew was probably coming.

_“Yesterday, you saw an act of disobedience that will not be tolerated. Today in the light of the morning and God I’m here to show you… how we punish disobedience.”_

Two guards came forward and grabbed Troy, they finally released his hands, he felt a momentary sigh of relief as the angry red bands around his wrists were no long being rubbed and knocked. They dragged him to his feet, ripped the shirt and jacket he had been wearing off his back. They pulled his wrists apart and tied them to the two polls, Troy hissed slightly as the ropes were done so tightly, that the cuts on his hands and wrists started to bleed. There was a pause.

_“Learn well my children, I do not want to have teach this lesson again.”_

That was when Luca unleashed his whip. Troy cried out in agony at each stroke, the shock more than the pain got to him. As the punishment continued on, Troy tried to mute his cries, some part of his brain knew how to take a beating, staying silent was the way to survive it. He’d taken a beating before and come out alive, he’d survive this too. Luca got more and more enthusiastic as time went on, striking Troy again and again, Troy’s muted grunts of pain frustrated him, he wanted something louder and more impressive. Blood started to pour down his back, as more and more cuts and slices appeared. Luca took a pause at one point, breathing hard

_“Looks like you know how this goes, think of it this way. I’m just adding scars to your collection!”_

After the taunt didn’t work and what Luca felt had been an encouraging start, Troy’s stoicism drove him mad. Eventually Troy won out only in the sense that he passed out from the pain. Lucien would have killed him had Ren not yanked him back with a murmur of reproach in his ear. The guards undid the restraints and Troy fell to the floor, his back streaked with blood and raw, baking and burning in the heat. The captives had all watched horrified while this spectacle took place. When Troy fell to the floor, none of them moved to help him, apart from the old man.

He moved quietly to pick Troy up, the guards made to stop him but the old man responded.

_“If he dies, he’s of no use to you.”_

The old man took Troy’s arm and as gently as he could put it around his shoulder. He moved Troy towards the truck, Troy was in so much pain he was barely aware of what was even happening, the other captives made way for Troy as he was laid on his stomach in the back of the truck. The old man went begging to the guards for medicine after that, making the same argument again that a dead slave was of no use to them, he did manage to get some bandages but nothing else, he wrapped them around Troy as best he could and pushed fears of infection to the back of his mind. He wanted to watch over him, but couldn’t, the guards kept all of them busy that day, every so often the old man would glance back to check Troy was still breathing. Thankfully he was and just slept. Troy woke up properly the next day, his back was on fire. His face rested against the metal of the truck floor. He still had nothing on top, but there were bandages around him which gave him a little bit of relief. The old man was sitting next to him.

 _“I’m glad to see they didn’t kill you.”_ He said smiling, he handed Troy his cotton jacket that he’d manage to rescue, only slightly ripped after the guards had torn it off him. 

The guards laid off Troy a while after that or they kept their attacks small. An occasional kick in the ribs or tripping him or to be particularly cruel a slap on the back. The old man spoke to him on and off, he learned his name was Francis, that he was originally from New York City, that he retired to the ‘South’ as he dubbed it for peace and quiet. He watched out for Troy as the days passed, he made sure Troy got a spare t-shirt, so dirt didn’t go into his back. Whenever Luca demanded something of Troy or Ren he was there to back him up. Troy was shocked to find someone so kind, taking time to protect him. Some part of his brain said he didn’t deserve it. When he asked Francis, he simply said

_“You watch my back, I watch yours.”_

Troy accepted this; it was simple. The only thing that was simple in a poisonous world. The captives mostly acted as fetch and carry people for the gang or they were chained up. The camp was set up every night and pulled down again every morning. Half the gang members went raiding each day, the rest stayed by the trucks, mostly to keep an eye on Troy. The work was boring and exhausting, the captives were never given enough to eat, so Troy and Francis lived with a permanent gnawing hunger in their bellies. The woman that travelled in the same truck as them they learned was called “Aoife.” She spoke even less than Troy, simply staring into space when the guards weren’t commanding her to do something. But as the days passed Francis and Troy or Nemo as they called him formed a strange friendship, they didn’t speak very much during the day as neither of them wanted to get caught. Troy didn’t like the prospect of trying cope with another ‘punishment’ and Francis felt a deep guilt about having cause the first one. But sometimes at night Francis would talk about his old life in New York or his house in the South, how much he missed it or point out the stars that he could see to Troy. He even tried to teach him to speak French, the accent that Troy had registered when they had first met became stronger at night. So, the days passed, Troy was not content, by any means, but he wasn’t as frightened as he was. He had found a friend at least; he wasn’t quite so alone.

The journey back to the Red Paladins compound took around a month, by the time they arrived, all the new arrivals were exhausted and twitching. None of them exactly knew what was waiting for them there. Troy was perhaps less scared than the rest as he no before to compare it too, still when the truck pulled up to the vast factory complex, Troy found himself with his eyes on the ground, murmuring bits of French vocabulary to himself that Francis had taught him to try and distract himself. Troy and the dozen others that the gang had acquired along the way were once again used as labour, carrying vast sacks and bags of food, boxes carrying weapons through the metal fencing around the gates, guns in their backs pushed them towards vast store houses on the far sides of one of the buildings. When Francis and he dropped their burdens inside one of the being storages facilities, they were hustled outside round the buildings again, as they rounded the corner, there was horrifying smell of excrement. In the distance they could see men and women, digging trenches, covered in muck. Francis gagged at the stench and had to pause, leaning against the wall, Troy put his hand on his back to steady him. The guards made a move forward to try push them, Troy rounded them ready to attack, he punched one guard in the face and the other attacked; using his rifle like a club and pushing Troy to the floor. He fell in the shit and his nose was bleeding.

Francis, who by this time had recovered, dragged him up

 _“Get up you fool and be quiet.”_ Francis pulled him along

_“He was going to attack you.”_

_“Getting your nose broken won’t help me.”_

The guards barked at them to be quiet, so all talk ceased. Troy couldn’t explain his protectiveness of Francis exactly. He was an old man, so in his head it meant he was supposed to be respected. But now it was more, he liked him, his kindness and his patience. He was so different, he never seemed to be angry, not really, despite the horror of the situation. They were led through a vast network of dimly lit corridors the factor was lit by a strange mix of electricity and candlelight. Aoife yelped at one point as a droplet of wax fell on her hand. She got a shove in the back for making noise. Eventually they stopped in a large dusty room there was a large line of people in, it might have been an office in a previous life. Two doors were on either side of it, an ugly little man sat in the centre, with a clipboard and a short pencil. He wrote down people’s names and pushed them into either one of two doors, when they came to Troy and he was asked for his name, before he could say anything. One of the guards answered for him

 _“We call him Nemo.”_ A snigger went around the guards.

 _“He stinks, what did he do? Roll in shit_?” Another responded

Troy stayed quiet, he’d learnt from Francis on the way there what his name meant, no one, nothing, no family. It was cruel and he always burned when heard it. He was pushed through the left door, he slowed, waiting for Francis behind him, but to his horror, Francis got pushed through the right door.

 _“Hey wait! He’s with me’_ ” Troy shouted moving out of the line to follow Francis.

 _“No you fucking don’t”_ The guard grabbed him and dragged him away, pushing again and again. One of the guards managed to grab one of Troy’s arm, he twisted it around and Troy felt a snap.

 _“Nemo stop!”_ Francis yelled as he was hustled through the other door.

**

Troy became a labourer in service of the red paladin gang, he moved equipment, food, supplies basically anything anyone told him too. They fixed his broken arm just about and he dragged things around for a few weeks one handed initially, earning himself more injuries and more abuse. When he wasn’t working he was kept in pens with other slaves because that’s what he was now. He looked desperately for Francis every day, even a glimpse of his face would have given him a little bit of hope, that his only friend had been taken for him. But he never saw him. The guards watched him, lounging about playing with weapons Troy thought they barely understood. Troy thought he would have made a fine soldier, some part of his brain was very familiar with guns, when he paused occasionally in his work he would look at the guards and plan how he would kill them in his head, snap the neck of this one, blind that one, shoot the legs off that one. Many of them were smaller than Troy, but they were aggressive and cruel and Troy spent much of his time half-starved or hurt, or both. He began to get crippling headaches that would sometimes make him vomit, possibly from being hit in the head one too many times. Troy slowly blended into the world of the workers and slaves at the factory, no one really said anything to him. Aoife occasionally nodded at him and that was it, many of the other slaves realised that the guards had something against him and stayed away, one or two of them had even caught glimpses of the scars on his back and had run from him terrified. As the months passed, he gave up hope of ever finding Francis. He made his escape attempt 7 months after he first arrived, determined to leave and find out who he was, where he actually belonged. Another part of him was death wished, Francis had to be dead and part of him wanted to join him . Of course, he failed miserably, and Francis had he been there would have told him off being so stupid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy tries to escape his captors....it goes horribly wrong

The guards dragged him into the main room. Troy was bloody and smelly and covered in filth, he’d crawled through the latrine tunnels of the factory and made it to the edge of the complex, the metal fencing and the open rows of shit he had seen all those months before would have been have been his way out, that was when the guards had grabbed him. He’d fought them off hard, several lay in the beds of the hospital with smashed noses, broken hands, one had even lost an eye, just as he had planned. But he had still ultimately lost, there were just too many and when he tried to grab a gun to shoot himself, to try and escape this life, they had grabbed it off him and smashed him over the head. He was now very awake and resisting once again. His stature and sheer will made it hard for the guards to hold him, but they managed.

Caden, the leader of the paladin gang stood talking and drinking on the other side of the room with his lieutenants, when Troy was brought in, he turned around. Troy looked up, up and until this point he’d only ever seen Caden from a distance, usually flanked by soldiers

_“Ahhh, our little escapee has finally been caught. Wow and does he smell! Well done boys, better late than never.”_

The guards shoved Troy forward on his knees

 _“This little shit gave us some serious trouble, Luca has lost an eye, Jones’s hand is broken. He took on all of us.”_ One of the guards spat at Troy as he spoke.

 _“Goodness, I must give them a visit and a blessing.”_ Caden said, crossing himself.

_“But firstly, what should I do with you? What is they call you? Ahh yes Nemo. My guards will tell me I should just kill you. But I think that’s too quick considering how much trouble you’ve caused us. Tell me little man, why did you try and escape?”_

Caden lent forward to the prostrate Troy, pulling his face close to him.

 _“To escape…to escape you, to find my own family...to...you killed my friend.”_ Troy trailed off; the assembled gang members began to snigger.

 _“What friend??? I’ve killed and martyred a lot of people in my life, you’re going to have be more specific than that_.” At one point, one of the men around him murmured in his ear

 _“You mean Francis??? Hahaha. Yes, I know who Francis is. But that’s a story for another time. Now my dear boy don’t you know? Your family? Don’t you know you belong to us, we picked you up out of the water, we gave you a name. God sent us to you, don’t you remember? We named you Nemo, do you know what that means? No one….you have no one, we’re your family that’s it…”_ Caden’s voice had become more hushed as he went on, the room around him had quietened as he spoke. Caden pulled a long knife from his belt

_“I think you need reminding who you belong too.”_

Multiple guards rushed forward to hold Troy in place, they’d seen Caden do this enough times in the past. 4 men held Troy’s arms and legs as he tried to pull away from Caden’s lethal looking knife. Caden grabbed Troy’s long hair and pulled his head so the left unscarred side of his face was turned toward him. Caden then took his knife and very slowly, deliberately drew a line, a deep line from Troy’s ear to his mouth. The cut started to bleed almost instantly, and Troy screamed. Once Caden was done, the guards dropped Troy to the floor smashing his face against the stone. Caden looked down at him

_“If you survive this, that scar will remind you, that we are your family and no one else.”_

He turned and walked away returning to his drinks and lieutenants. The guards pulled Troy away after that, shutting the doors behind them and then they went for him, still with his hands behind his back. They kicked him, stamped on him, they slapped his bleeding face, Troy tried to crouch in a ball to stop the blows. When that didn’t work, he just screamed.

Troy Otto did not try to escape the Red Paladin gang again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy meets some new characters and obviously pushes a gun in their faces :) Let me know what you think, more updates coming soon!

Freya and Astrid crept along the corridor as quietly as they could, trying not step on squeaky bits of metal or general garbage left behind. Astrid weak from hunger and dehydration started to wobble. She fell on Freya with a crash.

 _“It’s okay, Astrid, I got you.”_ Freya murmured

 _“Climb on my back, you can’t walk. I’ll carry you.”_ Astrid lent against her and Freya heaved the teenager onto her back and continued to move along the corridor, stepping as quietly as she could. The dirty lights glowed above them, Astrid murmured as she lay her head onto Freya’s backpack, covered in cloth

 _“Thank you for coming to get me Auntie Freya, I knew you’d come, I knew you’d come…”_ over and over again.

 _"Shhh, we gotta be quiet now.”_ She rounded the next corner, one hand on Astrid to keep her from falling and one on a pistol at her left side. Then she saw him, she raised her gun without hesitation. But she didn’t shoot, if she could avoid a gun battle, she would. Her eyes took in her opponent. He was over 6ft tall, maybe a little bigger, it was hard to tell in the semi darkness, long, gangly, he had the half-starved look of so many of the Red Paladin gang, particularly the lower level members. He had a mass long curly, brown hair. He carried a rifle, pointing it at her. She noted, he hadn’t shot her either, unusual, Red Paladins were usually a shoot first, ask questions later kind of group. Maybe she could bargain, with this figure, this man shrouded in darkness.

 _“We don’t want any trouble. We just want out, we’ll pass you by and that’ll be that. You never saw us.”_ Freya opened with.

_"Not a chance, no one gets out of this place. Caden watches over everything, he always finds you. You won’t escape him, don’t even try.”_

_"We want to take our chances, Caden has got hundreds of slaves. He won’t notice us. We’re very insignificant. Whatever plans he’s got, he can forget about us.”_

_“Not a chance. No one gets out of this place.”_ At that point the man stepped into the light of one of the lanterns. He had a huge scar across one cheek that ran from his lip to his ear and a massive scar that ran from his hairline across a part of his other cheek. Freya took in the scar from cheek to ear and had a moment of possibly desperate inspiration.

 _“You tried to escape, didn’t you?”_ She said quietly. 

_“What?”_

_“That scar on your cheek, Caden only does that to escapees. If they survive, it’s a reminder of ‘who there real family is’.”_ She watched the man shudder at the words, clearly she’d managed to hit home.

_“How do you know that? Caden only does it too teach us a valuable lesson.”_

_“Because”_ Freya said gently removing her hand from Astrid and pulling the huge shawl down that shrouded her face.

 _“I’m like you…”_ Freya’s own cheek carried something similar to his. A long thin scar from ear that ran down her cheek to the line of her face and ended somewhere around her chin. He stared at it, it was so like his, but not. He couldn’t believe it.

 _“Look, you want out of this hole? Come with us. I’ll take you out. I swear, I’ve got a way out for all of us.”_ Freya said desperately, they were running low on time. He’d either come with them or she’d have to shoot him.

 _“How did you get that scar?”_ Troy wasn’t moving, he still didn’t really believe her.

_“Short version, I tried to escape probably in a similar fashion to you. I failed, the guards dragged me before Caden and he started to tear open my face. One of his guards was infected, he transformed right there in the room. While everyone was distracted, I whipped my face away and I ran.”_

Troy still did not look particularly convinced; he didn’t lower his weapon.

She tried again

 _“That scar on Caden’s left hand? You’ve seen it right”_ Troy nodded

 _“I gave him that, when I escaped I grabbed the knife he attacked with and drove it through his hand onto the table so he couldn’t get me.”_ She shuddered at the memory, Freya was not fond of dragging her mind back over the most scarring experience of her life to satisfy a stranger, but she was getting desperate. Finally, Troy lowered his gun, she lowered hers in kind and moved towards him. He was fascinated watching her, she didn’t recoil in horror or disgust. Most people did when they saw his wrecked face, he was so use to the reaction these days. This woman’s no-nonsense reaction was confusing to him and the fact that she had a scar kind of like his was mind boggling. Of course, she didn’t really look like him, but it was close enough and that she’d escaped! She was back again for the girl; she was mad clearly. But if she could give him away out, he would follow her and if not, he could always kill her and there would be no harm done. His mind wondered to Francis, maybe this mad woman could help him find him, find the body. As she walked towards him, he brought his gun up again, she held her hands up in a very non-threatening motion, the damaged slave girl still half passed out on her back.

_“I want something else from you.”_

_“What?”_

_“I need you to help me find someone, someone who’s disappeared here. You find him and take him with you too and I’ll let you live.”_

Freya groaned internally, she should have just shot him, this was going to be a nightmare. But she responded quietly calmly

_“Who??”_

_“He’s a prisoner, like me, he disappeared months ago. You clearly know something about this place. Maybe you know he is? You can help me search for him.”_

_“You’re joking right? I’ve not been here in years, I’ve come to pick up one person, who’s currently passed out on my back and now I’ve got you. I’ve got no idea where you’re probably dead friend is.”_ Freya winced as the last sentence slipped out, never yell at a man with a gun, it was one of the first rules of surviving the apocalypse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so updates coming soon was a bit of an exaggeration. I've finally managed to update this (blame whumptober) Freya and Troy talk and try not to kill each other. What do you think? Am I getting his voice right? What do you think of the heroine?? Feedback appreciated.

Freya hadn’t been far off when she worried about her flippant tongue, Troy’s immediate reaction had been to bring the gun up to her face. She put her hands up again in a very non-threatening gesture

_‘Alright…alright…now let’s not do anything rash. I I I’m sorry for what I said, I’ll help you find your friend, can we maybe discuss it somewhere else??”_

Freya was painfully aware that they were exposed in the corridor and Astrid was wobbling. Troy prodded them along the corridor, Freya held onto Astrid, keeping her sprawling arms and legs close, he found one of the many storage rooms in this part of the facility, nothing was really kept in them, they were more for the guards to torment the slaves, he’d been dragged into these rooms more than once himself. He shut the door behind and found the light, a single light bulb lit up the dismal little room. Freya laid Astrid down, the kid was murmuring

_“Don’t leave me again, please Freya…I’ll be so good I promise, please don’t go away.”_

_“I’m not hunny, I’m not, just try and sleep for a bit.”_

Then Freya pulled the heavy shawl she had wrapped around her neck and placed on Freya, the kid immediately pulled it around herself like a security blanket. Freya turned to face Troy

_“She means something to you, doesn’t she?”_

_“What, yes of course, I wouldn’t come back to this hole voluntarily, trust me.”_

_“Is she yours, your daughter?”_

_“It’s none of your business, okay so tell me about your friend”_

Troy paused; he didn’t quite believe she would help

_“If you don’t tell me anything, I can’t find him, come on talk.”_

So Troy lowered his gun and began, he told Freya everything he could think of about Francis, his face, his way of talking, how nice he had been, when and where he had disappeared. Freya was struck by how much this guy, whoever he was clearly meant to him and how impossible it was going to be to find him. Fortunately, Astrid woke up again at that point, Freya moved over and sat next to her to her hug, Astrid yawned

_“It sounded like you were talking about Francis, the caretaker or that’s what we all use to call him.”_

_  
_ _“You know this guy Astrid?”_

_“I think so, he’s super similar.”_

Troy reacted more forcefully dropping to his kneees, he moved towards the girl as if to grab her by the shoulders. Freya put herself between them and asked the question herself

_“Are you sure Astrid? Can you tell me everything you remember about him?’_

Astrid rattled off her explanation of how she’d seen him, how kind he was to all the children in the pens, how he always gave them food and told them stories and nice things, towards the end she started to trail off.

_“What is it? What’s wrong?”_

_“Before you came and got me, I II heard a rumour he was going to be executed.”_ Then Astrid started to cry uncontrollably, and Freya took her in her arms to calm her, eventually the crying became quieter sobs. Troy watched intrigued by this odd pair, had no memory of anyone ever doing that for him, true he had very few memories at all, but watching this made him think, this really was an unknown, the feeling of someone being so kind and gentle to him. Francis was the only one who had even come close and well, he didn’t know what had happened. He found himself feeling oddly jealous of something he couldn’t even recall.

 _“If you’re done, kid…Francis? What happened to him? Explanation now!” Troy_ snapped

Astrid snivelled again but began to talk

_“I heard one of the guards talking about, he’d disobeyed Caden and they were going to make an example of him and a bunch of others. Apparently, they’re going to hang them or something.”_

Troy was furious and horrified, he grabbed Astrid and shook her

_“You’re sure you heard this? You’re sure? You’re not just making this shit up.”_

_“Let go of her now”_

_“Screw you.”_

_“I mean it.”_

And then Troy became very aware of a long knife that the woman had pulled from somewhere at his neck.

_“Let go of her now, or I slit your throat right here.”_

Troy unceremoniously dropped Astrid back against the wall, holding up his hands. He made for the door

_“Wait!”_

Troy turned around

_“Look! I know you want to rescue your friend. I do, but storming in and grabbing him won’t help! You’ll both die a lot faster and more painful. For a start you still don’t know where he even is!”_

Troy paused trying to calm his breathing, he knew she was right.

_“I think I have an idea about have to save him.”_

Troy turned to her, ready to listen, to save the only friend he had this world, he was willing to try pretty much anything. Freya speedily outlined her frankly pretty half arsed plan, Astrid nestled next to her the whole time, Troy looked at them green with envy still. When Freya stopped, Troy’s first reaction was incredulity

_“No, nope. It’s fucking crazy, you want to blow the fuel pump, that’s your plan? That’s insane. You can’t make the shot for a start; you’d have to be super close to it and what then you blow us all to hell?”_

Freya snorted at the word hell

_“Not very Catholic of you, using the word hell. Firstly, I know I can make the shot, but the idea wouldn’t be to blow us all way. If Caden still does the executions in the same place that he always did, in front of the pumps, it’s perfect. I need one shot on one pump, the explosion will be bigger enough to distract everyone, but not kill anyone. In the panic you get up there and save you friend and then well, we can all escape and go our separate ways and if we’re really luck someone stamps on Caden in the process.”_

_“You can’t make that shot. Where would you even go? So you’d be hidden enough to conceal a rifle, but to actually have a shot at the pump”_

_“The second water tower”_

  
_“What? That’s too far, no way.”_

At this point Astrid piped in

_“Yes, she can, Auntie Freya can make any shot, she’s the best shot ever, she can take anything down with a bullet.”_

Freya snorted and hugged her

_“Can you think of any other options?”_

Troy shook his head, but he did ask one thing

_“Why are you helping me? You could have just killed me and ran.”_

_“Trust me the thought has crossed my mind, but I gave you my word to get you out and to help your friend, I don’t go back on my word.”_

Troy was shocked and he still didn’t really understand why she was helping him, killing him would have been faster and more efficient.

_“I want your kid with me”_

_“What? No. Astrid stays with me.”_

_“So you’re going get up the water tower unnoticed, make an impossible marksman shot, all with a crying teen at your side?”_

_“Yes, Astrid isn’t leaving my side, not for anything”_

_“Auntie Freya, it’s okay I can go back. I know you’ll come and get me again won’t you?”_

_“Of course, but you won’t have to. No fucking way.”_ Freya said standing up, standing in front of Astrid, shielding her.

_“Look, if Caden does as you say, he likes having an audience. He’ll want all the children around him, unless you don’t mean what you say and you’re just worried about Astrid getting hurt?”_

_“Of course I fucking am! All hell is going to break lose and you won’t give a fuck about her! You’ll be too busy saving your friend”_

Troy was struck by Freya’s passion, she seemed to genuinely care about this girl and wanted keep her out of harm’s way.

_“I’ll keep her safe, until you come back for her.”_

_“And what proof have I got your word is any good?”_

_“You don’t, you’re going to have trust me. Just like I’m going to have trust you to make that shot”_

Freya grunted and cursed under breath. She could probably take this man down, but it was take effort and time and Astrid could get hurt in the process and she had given him her word. In the end Astrid made her decision for her, she came up to her and said quietly

_“Auntie Freya’s it okay…I’ll go back, I want to help Francis too.”_

Freya wanted to cry a little inside.

 _“Okay baby. I promise, I swear. I’ll be back for you.”_ Astrid hugged her and Freya took the sprawling teen in her arms.

Troy, waited crossing his arms, once again supressing his jealousy.

 _“Where are you going to get the rifle from?”_ he asked, cynicism on every word. Freya snorted and tapped her back, she carried a large backpack covered in cloth, it made her look slightly hunched, but it never failed when it came to carrying weapons.

 _“There’s a rifle, a sniper rifle covered in all that cloth?”_ Freya nodded and turned away from him, she was humming quietly in Astrid’s ear.

After a few minutes, Freya took a deep breath and nodded, the strange trio left the cold room and moved back through the corridors. Troy led the way back to one section of the pens, where they kept the children, he avoided it at all costs, usually. Most of them were asleep in pathetic corners behind the metal wire fencing or cages. Freya found the cage where Astrid was, she paused as she forced the lock open again, quietly she put Astrid back inside, feeling sick every second she did it. She murmured in her ear “I will be back for you and I love you.” Astrid was virtually on the verge of tears, but nodded, trying to be brave. Freya locked the cage again squeezing Astrid’s fingers through the bars, Troy yanked her away.

 _“What will you do now?”_ he asked as they moved quietly away from the pens

_“Find the water tower and wait”_

_“What about the guards?”_

_“Not a problem, my memory of these executions are these are big affairs. It’s only a few hours to sun up, Caden will want an audience in the bright light of day for this.”_

_“You seem very sure.”_

_“I’ve got no choice. Look, once I blow the pump, you grab Astrid and your friend and run. You get to the third storage of the complex?”_

_“I heard your plan the first time. I can remember it fine.”_

_“Mmmh.”_

_“What do I call you?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“What’s your name?”_

_“It’s Freya. And you?”_

_“People call me Nemo.”_

_“Alright Nemo, stick to the plan”_

Troy nodded and made to move away, he had his duties to finish as a guard

 _“Oh and Nemo”_ Troy turned once again

_“If any harm comes to Astrid, I’ll will kill you myself.”_

With that Freya raced off into the blackness of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy watches and waits to see if he can save Francis

Troy watched Freya disappear off and was left to think the rest of the night. He retreated back to the sleeping quarters, otherwise known as the little hovel he had killed a man to get. He passed by the pens where the children were kept and saw that Astrid was asleep again, shivering a bit, but okay. Troy was determined to keep his word and save Francis no matter what, Francis was his only connection to anything and if he really was alive, then it was a simple choice, no matter the risk. Hell it wasn't even a choice really, it was his only option.

Troy made it to his own little hole and lay back on the dirty mattress, his mind on the following morning and working out how to stay alive. Eventually exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep. The work bell clanging woke Troy up. Part of his brain wondered if the bizarre events of the previous night had been a dream of some kind. The morning would tell that he supposed. Troy and the other workers got pushed outside into the blinding sunlight, they were given tools and long wooden plinths. Others were given huge swathes of cloth. Men and screamed in his ears gesturing wildly, at first it wasn’t clear what he had to do or rather why he was doing it. What he had to do became clear when he felt one of the guards cracked his rifle over Troy’s back.

As the hours past, the structure they had all been set to create took shape; a platform. This ceremony that Astrid had talked about looked like it was happening. Cayden really was going to…hang everyone with an audience. Troy speedily pushed the thought away, worrying about Francis would not help him. He put his mind back onto jamming wooden sticks into the sand and making sure they were stable, while other ran around adding support ruts and pulling cloth over and other larger pieces of wood. He watched the crowds gather in the main square of the compound, soldiers and disciples well as the various lackies all stood in different parts in the dust, miraculously they were protected by umbrellas and tents, that had been scrounged from somewhere. Troy in one way wasn’t really surprised, when the Paladins raided towns or houses they took everything they could find.

The platform was finished at surprisingly speed, fear of being beaten and a desperate desire to get out of the heat made people more efficient Troy thought. As he scanned the area, he spotted the pumps that Freya had described at the very back of the platform, to him they were so far away, he hadn’t even registered them at first. His heart sank, if he couldn’t see them, how was Freya going to make the shot? He got distracted as yet another line of people pulled out; the kids. He had a moment of panic, but then he spotted Astrid being pulled along, their eyes met and she nodded at him, until another guard pushed her forward. Troy shuddered, he hated seeing people be cruel to children, or at least it bothered him for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, his half baked memory being it’s typical helpful self, he thought bitterly. Soon enough he was pushed into a line away from the platform still in the sun.

He shifted on his feet and wiped the sweat off his brow, many of his fellow workers gave him a wide berth. His appearance and his reputation meant that most of them were terrified of them. Most of the guards who were more than willing to abuse him were too distracted by the oncoming spectacle to pay him much mind and abusing Troy meant they would have to step out into the heat. More minutes passed and Troy thought that perhaps it had all been a mistake, some confused ramblings of a frightened kid, but then he saw a new line of prisoners being brought out and Francis was at the head of it. He had a huge bruise on his face and his silver hair had got long, but there was no mistaking him, Troy had to stop himself from trying to grab Francis then and there. But he’d given his word that he’d keep the kid safe and he had to trust this mad woman to pull this trick off.

The new line of prisoners were made to wait on the opposite side of the platform. Another guard came out holding a huge wooden block, he dragged it up the stairs that had been set up and slammed it onto the wobbly platform. And then stood a few steps back from it, as he moved around, Troy spotted a large axe strapped to the man’s back. Cayden arrived not long after, he was dressed in lose red robes from head to toe. He was flanked by a separate set of guards on either side and the small crowd parted. He passed the chained up prisoners smirking at Francis as he walked. He made his way up the stairs to the centre of the platform and raised his arms, the crowd started to chant his name

“Cayden! Cayden!” Again and again in rising tones of hysteria and glee

Cayden smiled at the masses in front of him and lowered his hands, the crowd quietened down.

“My people…my good people. We are here today to witness something important. To bear witness to something of vital importance! We are here to see God’s will be done…to punish those who would go against god! This man….this man” Cayden paused in his speech and gestured to one of the guard’s who dragged Francis up to Cayden. He grabbed Francis by the hair and held him up to the crowd

“This man dared to go against God and now he will be punished for it. Soldier if you please.”

Troy watched all this horrified, he just about kept control. Come on he thought, come on. He watched as Cayden dragged Francis backwards and put his head on the block. Troy saw Cayden lean very close to him and murmur something in his ear. Then the world seemed to slow, blood shot out of Cayden’s hand, and a huge explosion erupted from behind them.

Troy was thrown backwards by the force of the blast. Panic ensued as flames rose up, people start to scream and the soldiers went mad desperately firing into the air at where they thought he shot had come from. Cayden fell on the floor grasping his hand and cursing in a very unpriest like manner, Francis rolled away despite his tied up hands kicking out with his legs so his would be executioner got pushed backwards. After Troy managed to get himself up, his eyes flitted around desperately. He picked up Francis still on the platform, Troy dragged himself up and ran towards him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update on this one; a short one I admit. But I did my best to move the plot forward. Freya and Troy do their best to escape as the compound explodes around them

Freya watched the execution through her scope, Cayden had changed very little in the years since she’d met him. His hair was maybe a little greyer, but that was it. He had the same level of arrogance and conceit that had frightened her when she was young. Now it just made her angry. She had no idea what he was saying as he gestured wildly, she could hear the crowd chanting his name. His rhetoric whatever it was had lost none of it’s passion she presumed. Freya waited until the last possible moment, she saw an old man with longish grey hair be dragged up to the platform. He carried a black eye and when he arrived Cayden’s gesturing increased. The way Cayden lauded over him made her think this had to be Francis. The one she was going to all this trouble for, she registered Cayden lean down and murmur something in his ear, he waved his hand once again just in front of the pump. Then Freya took a deep breath and fired.

She didn’t miss, she raced down the tower flipping the rifle onto her back and grabbing her pack. The flame from the explosion billowed up high in front of her eyes and the chanting she heard became screams. No one was at the tower other than the men she had knocked out earlier. She made it onto solid ground and began to run at full tilt back towards the crowd, praying that she hadn’t just condemned Astrid by her actions. It didn’t take Freya long as the chaos caused by the explosion caused the people to disperse. Freya dodged and ran between guards and slaves attacking each other, skidded through blood stains and broken pieces of metal. She was an obvious outsider, but no one noticed her and she melted into the chaos.

The platform came into view, the old man kicked out at his executioner and Cayden was on the floor screaming as blood poured out of his hand. Even in the madness Freya felt a moment of pleasure at the old man’s suffering, the man who had put so many people through so much pain finally got a taste of his own medicine. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Astrid and there she was in a crowd of frightened children desperately trying to break the chains that bound them together, she changed direction leaving Francis to his fate. Freya ran towards the children screaming and crying and then there was Astrid, despite the fact that the kid was still chained up she threw her arms around her

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” She said squeezing the girl tight, Astrid sobbed into her shoulder.

Freya worked quickly tracking the source of the chain. It ran back to one of the walls, Freya made to go back there and smash it at source. But a guard moving towards her stood in her path. He was huge, standing over with a machete ready to swipe. She dodged to the right then to the left, his lack of speed kept her alive, then Freya tried to get through his legs. Then he grabbed and wrenched her arm, she desperately tried to grab the knife on her side, but he pulled at her. For a moment she thought he would rip her apart, pain shot through her arms and hands as the muscles were yanked and she screamed. Then her monster attacker took on a strange expression, he shook for a few seconds and then dropped her to the floor as he fell Freya saw an axe in the side of his head near the back. She clutched her wrecked arms and looked around to see where the axe had come from and then she saw him. There Nemo was on the platform, bloodied and bruised with his friend on his arm, but alive and having just saved her.

While Freya had nearly gotten herself killed looking for Astrid, Troy had ran towards the platform and leapt up to put himself between Francis and any would be attacker. The executioner having being kicked out of the way had managed to recover quickly and was determined to finish his task. Troy threw himself at him determined to bring him down, they had grappled back and forth and rolled around on the platform. Troy kicked him in the stomach, trying to hook him with one of his legs. He managed to follow up with a punch, one, two, three and again. The executioner had grabbed Troy’s hair and slammed into the wooden platform and held it there. Desperate Troy reached out for something, anything to fight with. His fingers found the executioners block, a tiny and half broken piece of wood. He grabbed and slammed into the guy’s face. Stunned the executioner fell onto his knees. Then Troy went into for the kill, he bashed his head in, again and again until it was nothing, but a bloodied mass.

Cayden had crawled away from this battle still cradling his hand whimpering, all his bravado gone. He looked up at Troy with blood all over his hands and spattered over his face and for a moment he was terrified. As the compound was burning around him Cayden could have sworn the devil himself was standing over him ready to take him down. Fortunately for Cayden “the devil” had more pressing things to do than kill him. Troy dropped the bloodied block and turned back to Francis, he managed to pull the rope from his wrists. Francis pulled him into a hug

“My boy, You made it! I’ve got to admit you’ve got an impeccable sense of timing!”

“I’m glad I found you! You’re…your’e all I’ve got.”

Francis hugged him tighter. Troy shut his eyes and let himself be enveloped by the hug for a moment, his friend, his only friend, his family was safe. When he opened them he saw Freya and the children. One of the guards was trying to pull her arms apart. Troy reacted on instinct, he grabbed the executioner’s axe from the bloodied pulp next to them and threw it as hard as he could. It landed with a crunch on the side of the guard’s head, he dropped to the floor and Freya landed on the dust. After that Troy eased him arm under Francis to support him. He looked up to see Freya staring at him.

Troy guided Francis off the platform, they wobbled down the now half broken steps together. He moved towards Freya, partly because he didn’t quite know what else to do. His mind hadn’t reached beyond this point and part of him was amazed they were even alive. He came across Freya with a limp arm pulling key’s off the dead man’s belt. She managed to get the keys into the locks on most of the kids, she released them speedily. They all ran off in different directions screaming. She lent against Astrid as though she were about to pass out. She swallowed and took in the two men

“You got a route out of here?” Troy asked

“Glad to see your friend made it.”

“Well do you?”

Freya hesitated as people screamed and ran around them. Fortunately Cayden made her decision for them, he had recovered enough of his wits by this stage to scream for his guards.

“After them! After them!!!!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our foursome run like mad from the Red Paladins
> 
> Feedback always welcome!

Cayden’s manic screeching was terrifying, the guards (what remained of them) all responded to his call. The foursome could see a variety of red clad zealots coming at them from all directions. Troy and Francis moved closer to the two women. Troy wrenched the axe that had proved so useful out of the dead man’s head and held it at the ready. Francis picked up one of the many guns that had been left behind. Astrid trembled hide behind Freya. And Freya well, she could see blackness on the edge of her vision. The pain in her shoulder and arm was excruciating. She picked Astrid up with her one good arm and screamed

“Run!!!!”

She took off with the two men following at her heels, the sea of red mad men followed them at speed. Freya did her best to lead them on a merry little dance around the buildings. They managed to lose a few in the chaos as the Red Paladin’s mighty empire was still collapsing. Francis started firing in between running, he was a good shot, particularly for someone who had been brutally tortured, and half starved. While Troy took care of any of them that go to closer, swinging the axe like a warrior from ancient myth. It made a very satisfying crunching sound every time he made contact. He also got more and more frightening as the blood of his enemies, the blood of the men who had made his life so miserable for so long sprayed his hands and his face.

Finally they came around to where all the vehicles were kept. Dozens of trucks in various states of disrepair all with machine guns mounted on the backs. But Freya went for a specific one; green with a rusted right door.

“Give me the gun, you drive” she pointed at Francis

He nodded and got into a somehow already open door. Troy and Freya pushed the still shaking Astrid into the back of the truck. Freya fell against the metal

“Go, Francis go!!!!” Troy shouted

Remarkably there was key were waiting for him and gas (something for working out later). But they shot off, Francis had his foot on the accelerator the whole way. They passed on fire buildings, screaming people, fights and assaults of all kinds. Freya lay on the floor groaning loudly while Astrid shook her trying to make her open her eyes. Troy turned his eyes to the machine gun

“Please be loaded…please be loaded.” He murmured

Again luck was on their side, it was full armed so Troy started firing indiscriminately at the soldiers who tried to run after them. However not long afterwards their pursuers started getting into trucks of their own. So they very quickly found themselves with a truck on either side of them with bullets coming at them from left and right.

The clatter of the machine gun fire woke Freya out of her confusion. She managed to shift herself up and pull a gun out from behind. She pushed it into Astrid’s shaking hands

“I can’t…I can’t…..”

“Listen to me baby, I know you’re scared, I know you’re exhausted. But you can do this, I remember how good you were at shooting.”

“I I II”

“You can do this, you can do this. Just aim and pull the trigger. I know it. Remember what I used to tell you??”

“Fight…fight until my last bullet and then run.”

“That’s right, now we’re just doing a mix of both”

Astrid laughed nervously at the old joke. But she took the pistol in her hand, flashes of being taught to shoot started to come into head. She turned around and tucked herself into the truck, hiding behind the metal when she could, but she started to fire. Freya managed to find one last gun (other than her sniper rifle) buried in her pack and did the same. They all kept firing at the trucks. Francis kept driving. He came to the entrance of the compound, the metal wire door was half broken down and a section of it was burning. He didn’t have any choice

“Duck!” he screamed

They all obeyed as he drove through it, just about managing to avoid the flames. The rest of the trucks got caught in the wire and one of them drove into the fire. Troy took the machine gun to the one that had gone up in flames to make sure it blew up. Then he collapsed next to Freya on the metal laughing, she smiled at him. Astrid dropped her now empty gun and started to giggle then she crawled towards Freya and sat on her lap. Freya wrapped her one good arm around her. After the craziness of getting out, the three lapsed into silence. Francis drove on for two or three miles until the compound was a tiny dot in the distance. He stopped before they got to the next inhabited place and got out to look at the three all sitting in the back. The young woman was barely consciousness, her arm still around her little girl and Nemo, well he was exhausted but had a kind of crazy smile on his face.

“Everyone alright back here?”

“We’re surviving, what’s up?” Troy asked

“We’re going to have to work out what to do. Find a place to rest for the night, food and there’s that arm.”

“My arm will be fine and my shoulder.”

“Young woman…”

“It’s Freya”

“It’s good to meet you Freya, but your shoulder will not be fine. It’s dislocated, a fact I suspect you know.”

Freya groaned quietly, but didn’t dispute the fact

“What can I do about that?”

“As a matter of fact, I think I can put that shoulder back into place.”

“I can do it myself…. I’m sure.”

“I doubt that. And I would like to help…as a means of payment for saving both mine and Nemo’s life.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You can’t really, but I was a paramedic in a previous life.”

Freya hesitated only for a moment. The pain shot up through her arm and shoulder. Her left arm was basically useless until it was fixed. She was aware that this was horribly risky, she didn’t know this guy. But she also knew that if she tried to do it herself, the risk would be equally great

“So are we going to do this on the side of the road then?”

“The longer we put it off, the more painful it will be. The more damage will be done to your shoulder as well.”

“Alright.”

“But Auntie Freya…”

“I know…I know, I don’t want to do this either, but I gotta get my arm fixed Astrid.”

“Alright then Freya if you could come out of the back of the truck and stand straight in the dust. The surface is flatish which I think will help keep you on your feet. I’ll try and do this as quickly as possible. Astrid, can you sit in the truck? Wave at Freya and tell her to be brave, can you do that for her? Nemo can you come out and help me.”

Astrid nodded, Freya pulled her heavy shawl off and the pack that she had carried. Troy followed her. Then she eased herself out of the truck and onto the ground. She wobbled a little bit and Troy managed to steady her. Then she walked towards the dust on the side of the road, Troy stood next to her. Francis waited patiently. When she nodded at him, he took her injured arm. As the pain shot through, she squeezed Troy’s fingers. He kept his hand on her good shoulder. Francis pulled the arm straight and rotated it. Then there was a pause and then he pushed. There was a horrible moment where nothing was happening and then there was a pop as the arm went back into the socket. Freya fell against Troy and collapsed. He caught her and lifted her up into his arms

“Freya!” Astrid screeched from the truck

Francis leaned in and examined her and did his best to reassure Astrid her declaring that she would be just fine. She was breathing and most likely had just passed out from the pain, Troy brought her back to the truck. Francis eased some of the heavy shawl that Freya had left on the metal into a sling around her arm. The pack did not make for the most comfortable pillow, but it was the best they had. After that Francis insisted, he keep driving telling Troy

“You keep an eye on our patient back then, be there when she wakes up. Try and calm her little girl down.”

Troy nodded. Although he had no real idea what to say to frightened girl. But he got back in the truck sitting on one side of Freya while Astrid perched on the other. Astrid was murmuring as Astrid begging her to wake up.

“I’m sure you’re mom will wake up fine. She just needs to sleep”

Astrid stared at Troy

“She’s not my mom, she’s Aunty Freya.”

“What?”

“Freya’s not my mom. I mean I don’t think she’s even my aunt. But she’s family, she looks out for me.”

“So how do you even know her? Why do you care about her?”

“I…she’s family. She came to our home a long time ago and she’s always protected me.”

“Tell me about her…if you don’t mind”

Astrid happily obliged. If she kept talking about Freya, it meant she wasn’t going anywhere. She went into as much detail as she could about how Freya had turned up at her parents home, their ‘compound’. How her parents had taken care of her, how strong Freya was, how brilliant and the fact that she was ‘a fantastic shot’ came up again. Troy held up his hands in defeat, he’d seen her make the shot at the tower, he needed no more convincing. Astrid talked about how Freya had looked after her, after her mom had died, how her father had kinda disappeared. Troy asked the odd question, but mostly let Astrid talk. She seemed to calm down as the minutes passed, she still kept her hand on Freya’s. But the panic and stress went out of her voice. After that she spoke about things that Freya liked, she loved chocolate, she loved words, she liked reading, she used to tell Astrid stories.

Troy listened fascinated; Astrid perhaps unwisely was spilling huge sections of Freya’s life to a complete stranger. He was jealous and intrigued, this woman was loved and wanted. She had a family waiting for her back home as did Astrid. He did perhaps think that maybe he wasn’t getting certain details; Astrid’s father was missing in a lot of the story as was Astrid’s capture by the paladins. But when Troy had questioned her about it the kid went very quiet. Astrid turned the tables on Troy eventually asking him about his own family

“I don’t have one or if I do or did. I don’t know where they are.”

“How can that be? How can you not remember if you don’t have a family”

“My memory is a bit confused…my memories only extend back a year maybe.”

“Wow, so you don’t remember anything???”

“I remember waking up in a river with splitting headache”

Astrid giggled at the image and Troy smiled in spite of himself.

“So is your name not Nemo then?”

"What? Why?"

“What well you said, you couldn’t remember anything. Does your name come with that? Was that the only thing you remembered?”

“No, Nemo…it was a name that was given…to me. I hate it.”

“Why don’t you change it then?”

“I guess I hadn’t really thought. My idea of the future didn't extend much beyond the date-to-date...or time in general”

“Well you’ve got time now….I don’t know we could think up some names. See if they stick”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on let’s go for it….I’ll start um Jack, okay don’t like it, Luke, Thomas, Andy…okay you really hate that too….what about Jake??? That’s a nice name”

“Wait!”

“What do you prefer that name?”

“No…I well….I recognise it..”

“Really…is it your dad’s name?”

“No I don’t think…”

Troy rubbed his head, flashes of memory started to come back. A young man with brown hair smiling at him, ruffling his hair, teaching him to shoot, screaming at an older man, his father???

“I think…I had a brother…”

“You had a brother???”

“II…don’t know”

“Should I keep going with the names??”

“Sure…”

“Okay um, Charlie, Rafe, Drew…um David…what about Terry, Torrance, clearly I’ve got a thing about T’s…let me have a think”

“Troy!”

“What??”

“That’s…my name I think…I can hear…I can see someone saying it…I think. Jake…my brother…that’s what he used to call me…”

“Wow! Okay…that’s awesome! I mean wow…um well it’s very nice to meet you Troy.”

Astrid unsure of what to do offered her hand to Troy, he snorted and shook it. It made a for strange image, he was still blood covered, although much of it was now dry. Astrid with the dark shadows under her eyes and between them a young woman exhausted and sore sound asleep at their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always struggle a bit with action, too short? Too long?? Too dull (be nice but honest if you get my meaning) Let me know
> 
> And Astrid and Troy too corny? What about the memory? Does that work? Give me your thoughts!


End file.
